Repossession
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Han Solo feels now is the right time to take back something that is rightfully his. Companion piece to 'Thief.' Set during the trip to Bespin. H/L. [You really should read Thief first].
_a/n: naturally, the logical conclusion in the Story of Han Solo's favorite blanket._

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 ** _Repossession_**

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Leia wasn't quite sure ff the soothing hum she was hearing was coming from the dull roar of the _Falcon's_ engines, or the endorphins still swimming lazily around in her blood, but she reveled in it. It was so rare these days for her to feel at peace, for her mind to be so calm that she was able to just relax. If she'd known she could feel like this again – if she'd known _he_ could make her feel like this – she might have let her guard down much sooner.

She had just been so – so afraid to feel anything after Alderaan.

A week ago she'd been starkly horrified at the idea of a long, slow crawl to Bespin – no hyperdrive had seemed like a prison sentence – but now, now – if it could just last forever –

Next to her, Han rolled onto his side, clearing his throat gruffly. His lips brushed her shoulder and underneath the tangled sheets his hands roamed over her stomach, eventually wrapping around her and pulling her closer. He shook his head and cleared his throat again, lifting his head slightly.

"You awake?" he mumbled, obviously having just woken up himself.

She turned her head, nodding silently.

"Mmm," he murmured into her shoulder, laying his head back down on the pillow. "Thought this might have been a dream," he said.

She shook her head, nudging his forehead with her nose.

"I'm not a dream," she assured him.

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, sweetheart," he drawled, opening his eyes and gracing her with a flirtatious smirk.

She blushed, and smiled back at him – she'd been lying here, retracing her steps, mildly curious as to how their relationship had come so far, and all the answer she needed was one look into his eyes and all the depth in them.

"You look very harmless when you're asleep," she teased softly.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I'll show you harmless, Princess," he growled, his hands running over her under the blankets.

She laughed as he pulled her closer, and closed her eyes when his lips met hers for what felt like the thousandth time this evening. She shifted in his grip and rolled onto her back, forcing him to shift and lean over her. His fingers tangled in the blanket as he moved his hand from her stomach to her thighs – and he paused.

He pulled back from her, his lips lingering near her jaw for a moment. He met her eyes, and grinned at her.

"You know what the best part of all this is?" he asked huskily.

She held her breath; sure he was going to say something that would utterly scandalize her – thus she was entirely unprepared when the soft, warm blanket covering her was suddenly ripped away. She gasped as the cabin's cool air rushed over her, drawing her knees up instinctively.

"Han!" she squeaked in protest.

She rolled towards him, and found him smugly cocooned in the blanket, hoarding it, looking back at her gleefully. She reached out and tugged on it, puckering her lips.

"I get my blanket back," he said wryly.

She yanked hard on the old thing – so well loved and so well worn – the blanket that she'd accidentally stolen from him three years ago; the very same one he'd unexpectedly let her have even then, even when they hadn't known each other a year yet.

Han buried his nose in the blanket, inhaling deeply.

"Damn, I missed this thing," he said, half to himself. He paused a moment, considering the material. "It smells like you now," he decided. He didn't think he needed to add that he obviously liked that.

"Han," she protested, fluttering her lashes. "I'm cold."

He lifted his arm and threw some of the blanket around her, pulling her under it with him and tucking it snugly around the both of them. He _really_ had been attached to the thing, before he'd given it to her. He'd always been grudgingly glad it went to good use, since she'd said it helped her sleep, but he'd also been slightly perturbed at what it meant that he'd given it to her – and then, weeks and months went on, and all he could think about was it on her bed, it wrapping her up at night, and to have it back now, with her in it, naked –

She touched his cheek, her brows furrowing curiously.

"Why did you give this to me?" she asked softly. "You…I was never anything but derisive to you, back then."

He feigned confusion.

"Derisive? You mean that _wasn't_ flirting?"

She pinched his arm affectionately, and he smirked. She sensed, though, that he was avoiding the question – maybe he didn't want to talk about it, maybe he didn't really know. She licked her lips thoughtfully.

"It used to smell like you," she ventured quietly. "I couldn't identify what it was, until you told me it was your blanket," she confessed. She hesitated a moment. "It's as if it…conditioned me to you," she reflected.

Han nodded solemnly.

"I bewitched you," he said, deadpan.

"Ah, this is sorcery?"

"Complete witchcraft."

She laughed good-naturedly. She snuggled closer, placing her hand over his heart. She was happy to return the blanket to him in this way, so that they both shared it; she tried not to think about what would happen when they reached the rendezvous point – would he leave? Would she be forced to consider this a thing of the past?

She licked her lips again, and caught his eye.

"You didn't have to give this to me, Han," she said, reverting back to the original topic. "Why did you?"

He made a noise somewhere between a sign and a groan, but he didn't seem frustrated, just wary – uncertain.

"Because you liked it," he answered finally, considering that the best sort of answer.

Leia mulled over the answer.

"Would you have given me anything I liked?" she asked, her interest piqued.

He gave her a look that seemed at once defeated, and wholly entranced.

"Honestly, Leia?" he murmured. "Yeah, probably."

She lifted her brows.

"What if I asked for the _Falcon_?" she teased.

Han didn't answer right away – he knew she was joking, but her question unexpectedly struck a nerve that he didn't know was there. He looked uncomfortable, and then after a long silence, he said:

"There's a lot I'd do for you."

The teasing sparkle in her eyes faded to something more serious, and she closed her mouth, swallowing hard.

"This is happening very fast," she said in a small voice, unsure if she was prepared to exist in the realm of emotion he seemed to be in.

He shook his head, pulling her closer, curling the blanket in his knuckles and using both to run a soothing massage up and down her spine.

"It's been slow as hell," he countered.

She looked at him curiously.

He shrugged.

"You just told yourself it wasn't anything at all until you let me touch you," he pointed out, somewhat _too_ perceptively. He stunned her, when he went on with more analysis – "That's why you freaked out after the kiss in circuitry bay."

"I didn't freak out," she protested.

He laughed, and gave her a look. She flushed – okay; she'd freaked out a _little_ bit.

"Well," she began hoarsely. "Well," she floundered. "I thought – I thought you were toying with me."

"For three years?"

"For at least two of them," she confessed, with a roll of her eyes.

He almost told her he loved her then and there – but he caught the words behind his teeth, because he was sure she wasn't ready to hear it yet. So, to illustrate how serious he'd been –

"I gave you my favorite blanket," he reminded her dramatically. "The blanket my best friend's _wife_ made me."

Leia tilted her head at that.

"How did Chewie react to it?" she asked curiously – she knew it had been from Kashyyyk, she'd just never thought to inquire if Chewbacca had been angry. It had clearly been a meaningful gift from Malla.

Han snorted.

"He didn't mind," he said, and then, grudgingly: "He made fun of me for a month," he added darkly.

Leia clicked her tongue, touching his jaw with a patronizing look. He turned his head and kissed her palm. She laid her head on her arm and looked at him thoughtfully, smirking after a moment.

"You really think the best part of all this is getting your blanket back?" she asked almost – _coquettishly_.

"Yes," he retorted, pulling it off her a little, his eyes roaming over the exposed skin.

She tried to pull part of it back, and he inched away from her, forcing her to lunge over and grab on to the blanket hard, losing her breath trying to fight him for it.

"Han," she giggled, when he finally let go and let her burrow back under it with him. "Captain, I had no idea you were such a blanket thief," she said, swiftly turning away from him, and taking the cover with her.

His arms were a around her in an instant, wrestling her out of it – and she struggled under his playful touch until he pulled her on top of him, and the blanket on top of them both.

"Hey, Your Worship," he drawled. "This is a _repossession_."

Leia smiled at him fondly, realizing fully for the first time how much it had meant that he'd relinquished the blanket to her three years ago, and well aware that anything he'd felt fleetingly for her had only gotten stronger since, and she could trust in it.

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 _-alexandra_  
 _story #296_


End file.
